


Are you coming down with something?

by tangledupinmist



Series: 2018 Nonnatus Holiday Card Exchange fics [1]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17135891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangledupinmist/pseuds/tangledupinmist
Summary: Shelagh is ill, and Patrick will have to hold the fort - but wait, is he really feeling well?Silly short fic which I wrote for siobhanmannion as part of the 2018 Nonnatun Holiday Card Exchange. Happy Holidays, everyone!





	Are you coming down with something?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siobhanmannion](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=siobhanmannion).



**Are you coming down with something?**

_for @siobhanmannion from @tangledupinmist_

_for the 2018 Nonnatun Holiday Card Exchange_

“I am afraid I have to stay home today, Patrick,” Shelagh said in a hoarse voice. “What is it, dear? “Patrick asked alarmed. Shelagh never stayed home. Even when their youngest had only been a few weeks, and she was still a recovering woman in childbed, she hadn’t hesitated to hurry over to the surgery when he had needed her.

“My throat is hurting really badly,” Shelagh whispered, followed by a stilled cough. “I thought it would pass, but it doesn’t. Also, I feel a bit dizzy, I think I may just go back to bed. Could you take Angela to nursery for a change?”

Patrick frowned. He was not particularly fond of having to drop Angela there, for he always felt the young teachers wondered why a man his age would have a daughter the age of Angela. But then, his wife was looking quite miserable, crouched down at the kitchen table, her eyes puffy and even her usually spotlessly crisp uniform seemed to have a few wrinkles.

“Of course, dear. If you want me to, I can wait for Mrs Penney to arrive and you go and rest.”

“Oh, thank you, I was hoping you would offer,” Shelagh said, slowly got up and walked upstairs.

Patrick watched his two younger children finish their breakfast, careful to not get smeared with butter from Angela’s toast or spoonfuls of Teddy’s porridge. Timothy thumped down the stairs, and Patrick thought for a moment how handsome his son looked in his school uniform. It dawned on him that while he was cleaning his toddlers’ face with a wet flannel, his older son was almost an adult now.

“Timothy,” he called happily, wishing to have a conversation to pass the time until Mrs Penney’s arrival. But Timothy didn’t feel the same. “I am late, Dad, have to run,” the boy shouted, grabbed his bag and rushed out of the door. Patrick heard the loud bang of the front door and turned his attention back to Teddy’s face, now almost clean.

“Daddy, I want more toast with honey,” Angela insisted.

“Darling, no, we have to brush your teeth and then take you to nursery.”

“But I want my toast,” Angela cried.

Patrick rolled his eyes. He could not remember Timothy being this cranky as a child. But then, it was 17 years ago. What a long time, Patrick thought. And to be honest, Marianne had handled this part of having a child back then.

“I want my toaaaaast,” Angela cried even louder.

Patrick sighed. What would Shelagh do, he tried to remember. Would she give in? She would probably know how else to placate the little girl.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Patrick sighed again. Mrs Penney had a key, why would she knock. And Timothy must have seen her on his way out, couldn’t he have let her in?

Angela jumped up from her chair and ran to the door. Patrick quickly lifted Teddy out of his high chair, and followed Angela.

He opened the door and was stunned. Father Christmas was there. Well, it was Fred, really, but Teddy looked at the strange man with big eyes, while Angela began to cheer. “Did you bring us presents already?” she cried.

“Oh no, I came to pick you little lady up and take you to nursery.”

Angela looked at her father: “Daddy, I want my coat. I am going with Father Christmas today.”

Patrick’s face wore a stunned expression. How did that happen? Why was Fred here, how could he possibly have known he was needed? Quickly, Patrick sent Angela in to fetch her coat and bag and whispered: “How did you know?”

Father Christmas remained earnest. “I know everything,” he said solemnly. “Comes with the costume, doctor,” he added whispering with a mischievous grin.

Angela came running again and Patrick kissed her good bye. She happily took Father Christmas’ hand and walked towards the van parking at the street. “Why are you driving uncle Fred’s van?” he heard his daughter ask. Just when he wanted to go back inside, Mrs Penney walked up to the house. As soon as he recognized their housekeeper, little Teddy almost jumped out of his father’s arms into the older women’s embrace.

“Uuuh, Teddy, how lovely to see you, my dear,” Mrs Penney laughed and followed Patrick inside. “If you don’t mind, I am going to take little master Turner with me,” she said. “I am going to put on his coat and will be off to the market. I won’t be home before late afternoon, as I am going to see my sister afterwards, if this is alright with you and Mrs Turner?”

A completely baffled Patrick shook his head and silently watched the entrepreneurial older lady quickly getting his youngest ready for a stroll outside. When she was done, she said: “Leave everything in the kitchen to me,” Mrs Penny called instead of a good bye.

Patrick heard the door shut and remained standing in the empty kitchen for a while. What a morning, he thought. Well, he really should take a leave, then. But all of a sudden, he remembered his wife. He should check on her before leaving the house. He poured a hot cup of tea, and walked upstairs. In their bedroom he found Shelagh cuddled in her bed, smiling a weary smile when her husband entered their bedroom.

“Where are the children?” she asked. Patrick told her what had happened. “Oh, someone must have heard your wishes then,” Shelagh smiled widely and cocked her head.

Patrick had meanwhile sat down at the edge of the bed, close to his wife. He took Shelagh’s hand into his and softly stroked it. “I hope you are feeling better soon, love,” he said affectionately. Please do rest today.”

Shelagh retrieved her hand from his and moved it to his cheek. She began softly stroking it and asked: “How are you, Patrick? You don’t look too well either today, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Patrick cleared his throat and looked into Shelagh’s eyes. “Erm, yes, -“ he paused and swallowed before continuing: “well, now that you mention it, I think I may start to feel a bit cold. And my throat might begin to be hurting, just as yours. I haven’t been able to notice all morning, but now that you mention it – ” he paused again.

Shelagh pulled back her cover. “Do you think a bit of bed rest could help, Dr Turner?” she asked, and Patrick wondered whether the weariness had really waned from her voice or whether he was just suddenly becoming too lightheaded to hear correctly.

He cleared his throat again. “We might try, I assume,” he said, shucking off his suit jacket.

“Good thing you never put your pyjamas where they belong,” Shelagh said, reaching out to his side of the bed, and handing him the said items.

Patrick sighed a contented sigh.

“Now, when I said bed rest I meant it,” Shelagh chuckled.

“Aren’t there different phases of rest, though?” Patrick, already in his pyjamas, asked with an innocent expression, when he slipped under the covers right next to his wife.


End file.
